Should. In that single syllable, Rehoboam found a small sliver of victory. It was fleeting and hardly worthy of celebration, but it did herald the first moment he felt a little less like a rabbit fleeing an owl in the dark and a little more like the owl. Perhaps he had finally found a path to safety through the endless night of their conversation. The ripple effect radiated outward from the beast's maw to the sound of that twice echoed syllable: should.

When he'd uttered it, Rehoboam had not known its power, had known only that the phrasing the Kingbreaker had offered seemed important, that the word choice thus far had been careful and deliberate, and that, because of those things, there would be clues therein. Clues that might shed light on the mysterious creature that stood before Rehoboam, as enigmatic and unknowable as the night sky. Reh had noticed that the massive stallion before him seemed to thrive on subverting expectations, which was in part why the lithe tobiano had fixated on returning the favor when he could. He still felt very outmatched by the grey, but at least his head was not yet slipping under the water.

The thunder of Reh's own name ricocheted in his mind, given new life by the rumble of the Kingbreaker's voice. He had never heard it said that way before, nor even given much thought to how his name should be said at all, but he knew in this moment that he wanted to be remembered in this way. With his name spoken like a rolling thunderstorm, the syllables rubbing up against each other to create friction that crashed down inevitably on the m.

The sound of it forces his lungs to expand and his soft eyes sparkle with something akin to delight but subtly different in origin. Rehoboam had never dreamed of greatness for himself, not in notoriety nor the million of other, smaller, ways that one could become known. He came to the Lagoon to seek answers, and perhaps to find a place of his own, but not because he hoped to achieve much.

But the sound of his name, rolling through the Kingbreaker's mouth was intoxicating. He could be something, if he wanted. Could.

You should not call me Friend, nor Love, the Kingbreaker was saying and the subtle rebuke brought Rehoboam's attention back to the present with a soft frown that twisted his lips flat and then down. His gaze sharpened on the Kingbreaker then, focusing on the shifting intelligence in those rust colored eyes. Reh had never wanted to know the mind of someone quite so desperately before, although he was in equal part leery of what he might find within.

They had grown comfortable talking, monster and hapless new arrival, and that comfort had worn creases and folds into the danger that permeated the air to the point that some of Reh had begun to forget the unease that had filled those first moments. The threat that lay implied in the beast's overbearing presence, regardless of his affirmations of love. Love, after all, was not always kind. Sometimes it was violently unpredictable, as like to demolish those in its throes as it was to uplift them.

Echion. The name carries its own weight, the syllables sharp like a bloodied blade thudding home in the cradle of a guillotine with a finality that brokered no misunderstanding, and the seal-silver stallion stored it away for rumination later when the threat of violence no longer pressed in quite so deliciously around him. It was a name fit for angels or gods or devils, ambiguous except that when combined with the creature before him, Rehoboam knew he was neither good, nor evil, but something other. Something else.

"Did I know your name?" The tobiano clarified, innocently, tilting his head millimeters to the side in question. There were a million names he might have guessed, a thousand that might have fit; the odds of him guessing the Kingbreaker's true name were so small as to be laughably impossible. And yet... as soon as that thought crossed his mind he realized it was wrong. Suddenly he felt as if he could have guessed his true name, and then, a breath later, that he most certainly would have. Having now heard it, Reh could not imagine a more fitting name for the titanic creature before him, and a part of him lamented at having not tried guessing first.

The realization that he might have lost an ear or an eye or both or more if he'd tried guessing quelled that quicksilver confidence and he only smiled instead, neither offering yes or no to the man's question. He wasn't sure what the right answer was here, only that it seemed like a carefully camouflaged trap if he gave the wrong response.

"I know you now," he murmurs, his heart hammering so hard inside his chest that he was certain it was audible to his companion. The Kingbreaker had made no move to harm him, and yet Rehoboam could sense that the desire to still lurked somewhere in that massive body, distracted by conversation that had not yet grown intolerable. "And so I will know you always."

A breat later and Reh's dark face lifted again, amber searching rust, and murmured his next question. "What else would you ask of me?"